


How We Apples Swim

by Crowgirl



Series: On the Strength of the Evidence [3]
Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Future Fic, Lightly Beta Read, M/M, Summer, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-25 07:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d thought Sidney’s plan for a “hidden garden” was a bit lunatic when he first proposed it, but Geordie has to admit, he’s made it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How We Apples Swim

Geordie’s half-asleep. The combined sounds of distant birdsong, the buzz of some insect in the tree above him, and the run of the water are making it very easy to slide into the sleep that he missed last night. Bloody false alarms. If he had a fiver for every one he’d been called out on in his career, he wouldn’t have to worry about his pension. 

So, yes, a quiet afternoon by the river was just about fine with him. He’d swum for long enough to earn a pleasant ache in his muscles and the grass is warm and dry beneath him, the mint planted in amongst the regular grass seed giving out a lovely fresh scent where he and Sidney have crushed it. 

He’d thought Sidney’s plan for a “hidden garden” was a bit lunatic when he first proposed it, but Geordie has to admit, he’s made it work. He’d started talking about it the previous fall as a planting project for the next spring, a little hedged in bit of bank to give himself some privacy along the river -- nothing very fancy. Without further comment, he ordered the plants in the spring along with the rest of the things for the garden and took the planting on as his evening project, ignoring Mrs. Maguire’s eyebrows. There are laurel bushes to screen out the rest of the garden -- and the screen will just get thicker as the laurel grows -- and there are geraniums and one or two violet plants near the water because Sidney can no more resist color than he can a jazz record.

Through his half-doze, Geordie hears the slosh of water along the bank as Sidney surfaces blowing water, puffing as he pulls himself out of the river. Geordie sleepily considers the benefit of opening his eyes and catching Sidney shirtless and dripping, his skin nicely pinked by the sun, swimming trunks soaked and clinging-- 

But the noises have stopped and keeping as he is seems much easier, really. If he keeps quiet for another five minutes or so, he’s sure he’ll just slip nicely asleep... 

‘Oi!’ He jerks upright and Sidney’s standing over him, laughing, a towel in one hand, shaking his hair over Geordie like an improvised showerbath. ‘And what the hell do you think you’re doing!’

‘Waking you up.’ Sidney scrubs the towel over his head and shoulders and then drops it on Geordie’s chest. ‘I didn’t bring you all the way out here so you could _sleep.’_

Geordie swipes the damp towel off himself onto the grass. ‘You weren’t the one who was up half of last night chasing some fool of a Londoner who didn’t know one end of Cambridge from the other.’ 

‘Oh, you poor thing…’ Sidney drops onto his knees, another slight shower of drops landing on Geordie’s bare chest as he moves. ‘And who was it got woken up with you?’

‘Yes,’ Geordie says patiently, shifting slightly to lay an arm over Sidney’s thighs, patting his knee as he does so. ‘But _you_ got to go back to sleep.’

‘Well, yes, I would have,’ Sidney says, running a hand through his wet hair. ‘But Dickens got the idea you were starting some kind of game. You should have taken him with you.’

‘People _might_ just notice if I started showing up with _your_ dog. Particularly in the middle of the night.’ Geordie closes his eye again. ‘The phone thing’s enough of a game as it is.’

Sidney is quiet for a minute. ‘Yes, I know.’

Geordie knows that tone of voice and, with a groan, he shoves himself up to sitting. ‘And I’m too bloody tired to go over the ins and outs of it with you again so I’ll make it quick: you don’t snore and you keep Dickens on the mat and I’ll be damned I give that up.’ 

Sidney’s eyes have shaded darker but he smiles. ‘You say that now.’

‘Yes, I do--’ Geordie grabs Sidney’s shoulder and pulls him down onto the grass, ignoring Sidney’s exclamation of protest. ‘--I say it now and I’ll say it tonight and I’ll say it again tomorrow morning if you like, but for the love of God, man, let me _sleep.’_ Geordie twists on his side, pushing Sidney down flat and appropriating his shoulder as a pillow, looping Sidney’s arm over his shoulders, and closing his eyes firmly.

Sidney chuckles in his ear and rearranges himself, pulling Geordie closer and sliding his hand down over Geordie’s ribs. ‘I didn’t bring you out here for _that,_ either.’

Geordie shakes his head without opening his eyes and sighs with feigned despair. He angles his head slightly and noses his way along Sidney’s collarbone and pauses to mouth at the soft spot in the angle below Sidney’s chin. He can taste the tang and slight muddiness of river water mixed with sweat and, under that, the sweet salt of Sidney’s skin. ‘Well, if you insist.’

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a Jonathan Swift quotation (apparently).
> 
> As always, a thousands thanks to [Elizajane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) and [Kivrin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivrin).


End file.
